


Meet Me in the Woods

by VastDelusion



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witches, Anal Sex, Covens, Eventual Smut, Forests, Hades and Poseidon aren’t related, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Nature, Poseidon is dead, Protective Spells, Puritanical beliefs, Rituals, Sally is a writer, Secret Relationship, The Darkness - Freeform, The Darkness and the Curse are two different things, Tyson is Percy’s little cousin, Wicca, Witch Hunts, Witchcraft, Witches, curse, radical religious beliefs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2020-07-11 18:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19932733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VastDelusion/pseuds/VastDelusion
Summary: Percy Jackson just moved to a new town, full of its own secrets and evils, with his mother and his cousin, who seem too happy to be here. While his schoolmates are...odd, and the town is surrounded by deep, dense forests that seclude it from the rest of civilization, it is kind of nice to be away from the loud, bustling, crowded city he used to call home.However, his newfound friends are eager to avoid the weird students in the school, the ones that whisper to each other in the hallways and seem to never eat anything at lunch, claiming they're "witches," especially the one who consistently stares at him. But, Percy is a rational man and knows that witches aren't real. Or are they?As Percy uncovers the town's dark history, unveiling its secrets in the process, he realizes everyone has a role to play in the game, even him. But what connections does he have to this small town that he's never heard of, and to the beautiful, dark-haired boy who seems to be always watching him?





	1. Before

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊  


_It was the third day of Moonshiem, the twenty-seventh of November, the year 1973._

_The flickering lights of candles illuminated us, heavy droplets of white wax pooling in the grass, darkened from an earthy green to a dark grey, lacking the sun's warmth. The candles were arranged in a circle around us; there were five of us in total. My friend from childhood—my soulbrother, by which we share matching, circular scars on our left ring fingers—stood beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder. We were in love, but not the way the world wanted us to be._

_The wind whistled through the trunks of the dense trees, threatening to blow out our progress, to allow the Darkness to seep in and destroy everything we worked for._

_It was our curse. We held it within our veins, flowing alongside our blood since covered-wagon times, when they ransacked our houses, stole our loved ones, and conducted their cruel tests on them. Some of them floated, some of them didn't. Some of them burned, the smell of singed flesh and fresh vomit lingering in the midsummer air for days on end. We scrubbed the smell of smoke out of our clothes for years. Sometimes, I can still smell the foul scent of death. But, for others, the gallows beckoned to them. The necklaces of rope were tied around their necks as everyone watched, delighted by the riddance of the witches. Delighted by death, by murder, on which the Darkness thrives._

_The Darkness was conceived from the Hunts, where brother betrayed brother and neighbor accused neighbor until the slaughter was monumental, and blood stained the streets of our cities. From the midst of the bloodshed, the Darkness rose from the depths of superstition and shadows that lurk within the fear of the unknown. We tried as hard as we could to stop it. The Darkness was on its way to Bloomsbury, and we sensed its malevolence three days before Moonshiem had approached. Its insidiousness was undeniable. It was getting stronger._

_Hades kissed my cheek, but as a sibling would. My heartbeat stuttered as I felt the light whiskers on his chin scrape my skin, but I learned over the course of several years to control the urges. My rough, rugged hand found his, and his other found his wife's delicate one. She was four months along with their first child. They bested the curse that plagues us by finding one another. While I knew that they weren't drawn together by fate, by a curse like he and I are, they would be happier together than the two of us would ever be. We loved each other, once, but all those fleeting kisses in the wood mean nothing now, and I don't wish otherwise._

_While I had yet to find a wife, I persisted, determined to conquer the curse as every year rolled by, slowly. While it brought me great pain to see them so happy—so fulfilled—with one another, I knew that I would find my own happiness with time. I loved him too much, so I had to let him go._

_I heard the engines roaring in the distance, over the sound of the breeze and rustling of leaves. They must have seen the smoke rising over the trees._

_Hades heard the cars, as well, as he brought his robe over his shoulders and tied the rope around his torso tightly. I looked into his enchantingly beautiful brown eyes and I saw fear. His dark hair spilled into his eyes as he looked over to his wife, who shared his expression. We peered up to the waning crescent moon, shining brilliantly overhead, the billows of smoke from the fire pit spiraling around it. The Darkness had left for the meantime._

_We took buckets of water and threw it to the flame, leaving only wisps of smoke and charred earth behind. We gathered our objects—our possessions and books and candles—and fled to the wood._

_The noise of the engines increased—in both loudness and intensity—as they approached. They were too close. I was worried they'd smell the magic in the air: the residual aroma of incense and sage, and the potent smell of scorched earth from the fires that had quickly been doused and left behind. It was too recent. They surely would notice._

_The fleet of cars stopped there. I watched through the wood, the sense of danger filling me. If I were to be seen, I could've been as easily hanged, burned, or stoned alike my friends and loved ones. I could have been murdered._

_The beams of headlights sliced through the darkness and escaped into the wood as the head of them climbed out of the driver's seat of the black Jeep and investigated. I knew that before they arrived that they smelled a witch, or several. The current Witchfinder, an intimidating man that rivaled Hades when he got serious, found his conclusion: the witches surely were here._

_To especially religious humans, such as those men, there were no good intentions when it came to magic. It was all black, like the Darkness, itself. Of course, they never knew the Darkness existed. The witches all signed the Devil's Book and were condemned to Hell once they passed on. We worshipped goats and gave brews to little children to give them inexplicable rashes and to make them misbehave in church. What laughable theories humans come up with. I can't really blame them; not all witches are altruists and completely abstain from murder and dark magic to get what they want. The Darkness had corrupted them, and now we had to run._

_I felt a tug on my robe sleeve. It was Hades, who held an incredulous look on his face._

_"What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice a hoarse whisper, and he pulled me along. "We have to go."_

_I obeyed and followed my childhood lover into the depths of the wood._

_However, it wouldn't be for long. The Darkness would be back, and we would have to ward it off once again._

_I woke the next morning—it wasn't quite morning, but in the dead of night—to the shouts and cries of women and children. I shot up in my bed and pulled on my slippers to see what was happening. I ran out the door, seeing the woods crowned with flames and toxic smoke filling the air. Our houses were untouched, protected by the wards we casted. I saw silhouettes of people—my family, my friends—getting dragged off into the night. I merely stood there in my bed robes and slippers and watched it occur. The ones who remained hid in the shadows until we were deemed dead, until we emerged to fight off the Darkness once more. Then, once it was safe to resettle, we did._

_I met a woman, a beautiful young lady with brilliant hair and a witty sense of humor who became my wife. And you were born. You had my hair and my nose, but you had your mother's green eyes that could look right through me. You were the most beautiful creature that I had ever known. However, to my great displeasure, you bore the scar on your finger, denoting the curse flowed through your veins._

_We stayed on Willow Lane for years. I watched Hades' wife conceive two more charming children, a boy and a girl—they were of Hades' likeness, the both of them. You got on with the boy, the younger one. He was the one who had the scar on his finger, like yours. You two would go everywhere together, and we had to pry you from him at times so you could eat dinner, take baths, and go to sleep._

_When you were seven, we were caught in the wood. I escaped with my life, but they knew my visage. They knew my affiliations._

_The gallows were awaiting me. I could feel the rough pull, the scratchiness of the rope around my neck. I could smell the musty scent of the black hood that would be lowered over my head so my screams would be muffled and my cries of mercy would be unheard. My struggling, my expression as the life seeped out of me, as my humanity and dignity were stripped from me. My instincts told me to run, so I took you and your mother and ran. Away from Bloomsbury, from everything I knew._

_But, Perseus, my boy, this is not the life I wanted for you. I don't wish for your return. But, I understand that fate will lasso you tightly and bring you back to your origins. No one in town knows about you but your own blood and our former colleagues. No one knows your face. The scar on your finger will bring you back to them. And, when it does, ensure that the curse be lifted and the Darkness destroyed. It is a lot to ask of you, but you have my faith. There is no one I can believe in more than you._


	2. Come As You Are

Bloomsbury, Vermont was a small town in the middle of nowhere: a little, insignificant spot on the map that no one would look at and think, _I want to go there, someday._ It was painstakingly quiet; the only sounds to contribute to the ambience were the rustle of pine needles and leaves in the breeze and the chirping of crickets somewhere in the deep, dense, dark woods that surrounded the town like an ocean. There was only one road in and out of Bloomsbury, and that was through the trees. This was the place Sally Jackson had decided that she wanted to live until the completion of her new book and the last place her son, Percy Jackson, wanted to be. To him, it was like she closed her eyes and pointed at a random place on a map, and Bloomsbury was it. 

His younger cousin, Tyson, sat in the backseat, dead to the world with his head leaned back against the plush, leather interior of Sally's car. Percy wished he could fall asleep, and he chased it to the ends of the earth until he decided it was hopeless. He resorted to leaning his forehead against the cool, glass windowpane and watching the endless line of pine trees fly past him as they drove. Every bump on the road hit his head against the window, some more forceful than others, but, ultimately, he ignored it. 

Trees were the only thing he could see for miles. Beside them, trees, behind them, trees, and ahead of them, guess what? More trees. 

He looked over at his mom, her green eyes concentrated on the road ahead of them and a content, thoughtful smile on her lips. She was off in her own world, now, and he wished he could think of something else but the overwhelming ache of dread and boredom that was clawing at his stomach. 

"How much longer?"

His phone had died much too long ago, and he didn't care to dig through the countless bags that were piled in the car for a charger. It was a stone in his pocket, a useless weight that he kept unconsciously reaching for and trying to power on and being apprised of his carelessness by the flashing battery and lightning bolt appearing on the screen. He put his phone away and sighed, waiting impatiently for his mother's distracted response. 

"Not too much longer, now." 

Percy sighed again, quietly so his mother wouldn't be miffed by his lack of enthusiasm. This decision was not made on his behalf. He told her he didn't care where he spent his senior year. She just wanted to write her book, and a nice place, like a bucolic landscape, would be the perfect ambience for her book. He didn't know what the word "bucolic" meant, but he thought it would mean something more than just trees. 

He hoped "Not too much longer, now," meant, "In a few miles, honey," rather than the, "Quite a bit longer, but I won't tell you that because I don't want to hear you whine," like it probably did, alike to the last time he asked, but he was proved wrong once he saw a cluster of small buildings in the distance. His hopes soared as he straightened his posture and bounced his knee restlessly. He was tempted to nudge Tyson to notify him, but he resisted. He still held the benefit of the doubt that it was actually Bloomsbury, that it was just another insignificant town in passing that he could blink and it'd be gone, then they'd be traveling for another six hours on this long road to nowhere.

He glanced over at his mom again, seeing a new, determined look in her concentrated eyes. He knew they were there: their new home.

As his mom slowed as she entered the town, he looked at the buildings. It seemed so old-fashioned compared to the blinking lights and tall skyscrapers back in New York. Here, the trees were the skyscrapers. 

It was too quiet. The loud noises that drove many of the people away from the city were comforting after awhile, and their absence made him feel uneasy. The buildings were composed of brick and limestone, the sidewalks were narrow, and the few people—they were scarce—who walked past looked at their vehicle with an almost-surprise. They must not have gotten many visitors, Percy thought, and why would they? It was just a backwater town that people passed through and forgot all about as they ventured onto bigger and better places. 

And Percy was going to _live_ here. 

This place, uneasily quiet, empty, and _unfamiliar,_ just made him want his mother to pull a wicked smile and say, "Gotcha!" then turn back around and drive all the way back to New York. However, the enchanted look on his mother's face made him think that there was no way that was going to happen, greatly to his dismay. 

Was everyone staring at them as they passed them? 

It seemed like one of those places in early history that they would capture people and hang them in the forest, claiming they were witches. Whether it was by drowning or burning them alive, innocent people accused of being fictitious creatures ruled by the Devil were murdered without remorse or second thought. 

He shook his head. Just because it was a small town didn't mean that they were primitive, that they still boiled their water over fire or chopped their wood for the fireplace in the fall for winter. They didn't ride horse-drawn carriages or covered wagons. They didn't live in little log cabins with no electricity or indoor plumbing. And they didn't hang people that they accused to be witches. 

They slowed in a driveway, the crunch of gravel beneath their wheels, and Percy looked out the window to see a large house. It was painted white with black shutters by the windows and a decent-sized porch. The roof was black tin, glistening beneath the sunlight that wasn't blocked by towering trees. Was this house theirs? It was so... big. Would he get his own room, for once in his life? He suddenly felt like a child on Christmas. This whole moving endeavor was beginning to turn around. 

They slowed to a stop, and he got out of the car, taking in the large house. It had two floors, doorsteps like on the typical houses in tv shows he'd watched before. It was beautiful. He imagined hanging flower pots from the roof of the porch to hang over the railings for his mom. He imagined helping her transplanting pansies into flower beds in front of the windows. 

His mother woke Tyson, and they began to haul the small boxes in the house. The house was already furnished, so they didn't need to bring any of their furniture back at the apartment. Percy knew fully well that he would miss his bed, but at least he could bring his sheets to make his new bed look familiar.

Sweat coated his brow as he hauled the umpteenth box up to his room (the bigger one, as Tyson wanted the smaller one because the closet was smaller and further from his bed). He had no qualms about having the bigger room, as that meant more wall space to hang up posters and stuff.

He stacked the box on a cluster of other ones and looked around the room. The bed was a bit larger than his own, so he couldn't use his old sheets. He had never slept in such a large bed that belonged to him. He sat down on the side, feeling the plush mattress sink beneath his weight. It was comfortable. 

He stood reluctantly and traipsed down the stairs to grab another box. He crawled into the car to reach his clothing box and pulled it onto the sidewalk before hauling it upstairs. He forced the feeling of dread from his stomach. He didn't understand it. He thought it to be the jitters of moving to a new place after living somewhere for practically his whole life. 

After all his possessions were stored away in his new room, he decided to take a walk to explore the unfamiliar surroundings. There didn't seem much to Bloomsbury when they drove through it, but he was sure there was more than just a few buildings and strange people. 

"Be back for dinner, then we'll start to unpack, all right?" his mother called from the porch. 

"All right," he heeded and, with that, he anchored his hands in his shorts pockets and continued down the street. 

It was a decent town, overall. It seemed peaceful, with hardly any cars passing by, and everyone seemed friendly, enough. They waved at him despite not knowing him. He waved back, not wanting to be rude. Were they the type of community to hold town-wide barbecues and gatherings, like in the movies? He shrugged. Their acts of familiarity struck him odd, but he only had to spend a year here. He'd probably know them by then. 

He walked to the outskirts of town, seeing a path leading off into the forest. It probably was a hiking trail, he thought. He decided that it wouldn't be bad if he took a little walk in the woods. He began down the rocky path, feeling curious. He would be back before dinner, and if he wasn't, well, he'd had cold, bad Chinese takeout before, so it couldn't really get worse than that. 

The road was winding, but it was kind of nice to get away from the prying eyes of others. The sounds of birds chirping in the trees lulled him into a sense of serenity as he wandered deeper into the forest. It was as pretty as a forest in the summertime could be, sunlight filtering through the leaves, and the smell of pine enveloping his being. He'd never walked through a forest like this before. In fact, the closest to a forest he got was the few trees beside their lake house they had for a summer when he was twelve and the small one that was nearby the summer camp he went to later that summer, and a few summers after that. The most recent sort-of forest he visited was Central Park. This was an actual forest, with singing birds, flowing streams, and it was repleted with the smell of earth. The trees acted as a shield from the imposing rays of blistering sunlight, a gentle breeze rustling his hair and relieving him of the overwhelming heat.

Eventually, he reached a tall, wrought iron gate that reached towards the sky like the tall trees around him. He raised a curious eyebrow as he pulled at the gate, the metal cold beneath his fingers, but it wouldn't budge. He looked for a latch to open the gate, but there was nothing to be seen. He looked through the slots of the fence for a sign of anyone, but it was vacant, probably left to rust and be forgotten. 

"Come on," he said beneath his breath, his voice strained as he attempted to pull at it once more. 

As he pulled the gate with all his might, he heard the hinges squeak, and it swung open. He stumbled back in surprise, but he soon regained his balance. The gate was open. He smiled slightly in achievement as he entered the fence.

As he looked around at the expanse of wood, he began to feel a sense of familiarity, like he was walking in a dream, as if he had wandered this dense forest before. He felt at the rugged bark of a tree as he looked around. 

Suddenly, hidden in the sea of trees, a twig snapped. He jumped at the sound. A feeling of paranoia permeated his gut, as if someone was watching him. Maybe he wasn't meant to be here. He looked around frantically, searching for who made the noise, but they were practically invisible in the deep woods. It didn't occur to him that this land might have been owned and he perhaps just stumbled onto private property. There were no signs, however, marking the land as private, or that there was no trespassing permitted. His heart leaped into his throat as he turned back the way he came, back to the gate, which he closed promptly behind him, the metal shuddering in his wake, and down the trail that led back to town, the trees towering over him menacingly as he ran for sanctuary. 

He wouldn't tell his mother about it. He didn't want her to be cross after they spent all day traveling, as she was probably tired, therefore more irritable, from the drive. 

Even as he returned to his house and sat on his bed, he felt as if the eyes never had left him. He looked around and scolded himself for being so ridiculous. He tried reminding himself that school began in a short week, and that Tyson probably needed help in his room to take his mind off of his sudden paranoia. Through dinner, through unpacking and helping Tyson with his stuff, the feeling never left.


	3. People Seem Wicked When You're Unwanted

Percy spent the first night in his house in bed, gripping his blanket tightly in his fists at every moan and groan the old house made. He had crept downstairs earlier in the dark to throw an empty, plastic water bottle away—the glasses weren't unpacked yet—and as he walked down the hallway, a feeling of fear embedded itself in him, clawing and gnawing at his stomach. He hadn't been scared of the dark since he was eight or nine, but there was something about the house, its unfamiliarity and the quietness. He was on edge, feeling someone—or something—was going to leap out at him from around a corner or behind a door and attack him. 

He lied in his bed, the idea of sleep a mere fantasy. It was partly from the feeling that never faded from earlier: the feeling as if someone was watching him. He knew it was ridiculous and childish, but he felt as if he looked out the window, a sinister face would be staring in at him. He was on the second floor, for Christ's sake, why would someone be staring at him through a window? Closing his eyes was another thing; he was afraid that if he closed them, even for a minute, he would open them to behold a dark figure towering over his bed. He tried to dismiss it as getting accustomed to the new house, a new place, with unfamiliar surroundings and dark creatures that could crawl out of the woods and sneak through his window and devour him alive. Yeah, sleeping wasn't an option. 

The floor creaked, just once, and he jolted. He found himself wishing to be back in New York, where the noises were calming, rather than unsettling. 

He stared up at the ceiling, relinquishing any desire to sleep. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊  


Bloomsbury High School was a ghost town, even more so than the rest of the town. It seemed like all the students had left for trips, and only the stragglers, the ones not involved in any sports or clubs, remained. However, he knew that was not the case. There were truly this few of students that attended the dreary school, located near the edge of town. There were perhaps only one to two hundred students in the entire school, and it was combined with the Junior High. All students from grades sixth to twelfth attended. The lockers were bigger, but the cliches were more prominent. It would be hard to make friends here when everyone knew each other so well. 

The school was one of the oldest buildings in the town, along with the courthouse and the Methodist Church. It was composed of old, cracked bricks and mortar and was built in the fashion seen in old pictures of buildings back in the late 1800s to early 1900s. Percy was worried about its stability, but it seemed to be fine for the meantime, as no one seemed to fall through the floors. 

He felt everyone's eyes on him as he wandered down the hallway. It was a small school, with small classrooms and small amounts of time to get to class in between bells. He was a new student in a place where they never got new students. He felt like an outsider, victim to everyone's strange gazes. He finally found his locker and put all his stuff inside. He'd find time to organize it, eventually. 

The feeling of paranoia returned as he closed his locker, but he chose not to heed it. He pushed it behind him as he checked his schedule and tried to find the classroom where he would report for first period. 

He knew all the attention was on him. He couldn't shake the anxiety, but he couldn't muster the courage to talk to anyone. He wanted to go back to New York and feel comfort in knowing that he hardly knew anyone, and that no one cared if he walked down the hallways and attended classes. But, here, he felt like he was fresh meat, surrounded by a pack of snarling, foamy-mouthed coyotes. Never had he felt so alarmed to be a stranger. 

He finally found the classroom where he would be sitting for the next hour and introduced himself to the teacher. She was a short and stout, but kind-looking woman with mousy brown hair and glasses perched on the tip of her nose, who seemed delighted to see a new face. She told him where to sit, and he obeyed, waiting in silence for the bell to ring and for what few students there were to flood into the classroom. 

In his boredom, he traced the plain, silver ring that adorned his left ring finger. While he realized no one wore rings on that finger unless they were married, he felt self-conscious about the thick, white scar that encircled it. It was smooth—a perfect circle, like someone severed his finger clean off at the knuckle, but it was somehow reattached. He wasn't sure when he got it, or how, but it had always been there. He used the ring to cover it, if barely, and it invited many unwanted questions, but he just answered with a, "Well, yeah, you know," or a simple shrug. 

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the bell ringing. 

A blond boy sat beside him; he was tall with an average build. Percy paid him no mind. He kept his eyes straight ahead at the white board, waiting for the teacher to begin her lesson and for everyone to take their sights off of him. 

He wanted to go home. 

Not home, where the floor creaked whenever he walked and it was far too quiet, but _home_ home. He wanted to go to New York, where his friends were laughing and joking without him. Where it always had a little noise. Where he could look out the window and see life. 

After a few excruciating hours, the bell for lunch rang, and Percy had never been more excited for cold, processed meat sandwiches in his life. His stomach had been growling at him since third period. 

However, once he stepped into the cafeteria, he thought he'd prefer to go without. People sat at their designated tables, in their designated spots, chattering about what they usually did. Percy held his tray indecisively, standing quietly and wondering where to sit. Everyone knew who they were. He was the only one without a place. 

The blond boy from his first period class waved over at him, and a wave of gratitude washed over him. He was glad that someone was there to save him from looking like an idiot. The boy patted the seat next to him, gesturing him to sit. 

"My name's Tyler," the boy introduced as Percy set down his tray. 

"Percy." 

"You just moved here, yeah?" 

"Yeah."

"Where from?"

"New York." 

His eyebrows raised in surprise, a long whistle departing his lips. "The big city, huh? Wow. Why'd you come here?" 

"Mom's writing a book. She wanted to live somewhere peaceful."

He scoffed. "I guess. This place is pretty quiet." 

"Painfully so." 

Tyler laughed. "You'll get used to it. I can show you around." 

He nodded. "I'd like that."

Others situated at the table around him, and it was like a breath of fresh air. Maybe this place wasn't as bad as it seemed. Or, perhaps it wasn't time to let his guard down yet.


	4. The Isolated Ones

There was this kid in Percy's fourth period class that would not stop staring at him. The others, they quit after a couple of days, but he persisted. He tried to be discreet, looking away when Percy's eyes caught him, but his eyes would always drift back to him once Percy looked away. 

His hair was long and dark, his skin was pale, and he wore all black. He was intimidating and a complete stranger, but Percy couldn't shake the unwavering feeling of déjà vu, as if he'd seen him in a dream—which was impossible, because he read it on the internet once that he must have seen him before for him to appear in a dream, if only for a second, a glimpse of his visage as he passed him on the sidewalk. Perhaps he had seen someone similar-looking, but he was just too familiar, and the mere thought of it was piling stones in his head. 

He wasn't paying attention to what the teacher was saying, so he snapped his eyes back onto the whiteboard and tuned in to his lecture. Soon enough, the feeling of eyes on him was back. 

He thought to ignore it, but it was hard when someone's eyes were practically boring into the back of his head. He wanted to ask him what the deal was, but he didn't want to incite a fight and get a bad reputation. The kid was clearly shorter and weaker than he was. He probably was only a sophomore by the looks of him. He would get slander for it, for sure. And his mother would have none of it if he were expelled over such trivialities—in his senior year, no less. 

He looked back at him, but his eyes were no longer on him. A wave of strangeness washed over him. He felt like someone that he had seen before, somewhere. It left a void of dissatisfaction and frustration in his chest, like he was trying to conjure up the name of a movie star that was on the tip of his tongue, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of it. 

Then, their eyes met. He didn't want to look away. They were all too familiar, despite being so ordinarily brown. The boy raised his eyebrows questioningly, as if he hadn't been staring at him for the whole class, and every class they shared since he started school. Percy snapped out of his thoughts and turned back to the whiteboard. He didn't want to be scolded for not paying attention. 

The bell brought the lesson to an abrupt stop, and when Percy looked back, the boy was already gone. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"Who are they?" Percy asked Tyler at lunch.

Tyler brought his cliche over to sit with them, so Percy wouldn't feel like an outcast. They weren't necessarily his friends, rather people that made him not feel lonely. 

Since fourth period, Percy was trying to think of where he saw that boy before, if he did. It could have been his brain playing tricks on him again. Now, the strange boy sat with others, but they weren't eating anything. They just sat at the table quietly, not exchanging a word, unless they were whispering, but he didn't see any of their lips move. 

"Oh, they're... nobody," he said. "Don't pay them no mind." 

"Why? Is there something wrong with them?" 

"Just... Leave them alone, and they'll leave you alone." 

Tyler's answer didn't satisfy him. He watched them as they stared down at the table as if they were expecting plates full of food to appear before them, out of thin air. They would murmur things to each other occasionally, but other than that, they sat in silence. Percy got bored of observing them and returned to his own lunch, picking up on whatever conversation the others were having. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"The waning crescent moon," a girl's voice permeated the darkness of a small room. 

A match was lit, illuminating the main points of Nico di Angelo's face with a faint golden glow as he reached to light a tall candle. Once the candle was lit, his face now colored a light purple, he shook off the match and closed his eyes, green eyes piercing the darkness behind his eyelids. He tried to concentrate on them while he waited for his friend to finish her research. 

"Nico?" 

"Yes? I'm concentrating." 

"Well, hurry up." 

"It's not as if the Darkness is going to consume him so quickly." 

"Did you plant the bag?" 

"Yes, this morning." 

She nodded, watching the thin wisp of smoke curl in the air. 

"Good." 

Soon, in the cloud of gathered smoke, an image appeared. Percy looked over his shoulder as he entered his house, closing the door behind him. It followed him up to his room, where he threw his bag onto his carpeted floor and sat on his bed, the mattress bouncing slightly beneath him. Nico gave the room a good once-over. 

"He's susceptible," Nico concluded. "See? The weak points." 

Her golden eyes flicked across the image of his room. She eyed the windows, the closet, the vent. She nodded. "It can take him. We'll need to wait until we can plant the bag in his room, as well. Maybe we can cast protective wards over his house." 

He shook his head. "Hazel, protective wards against the Darkness need fire. And blood rituals. It's blood magic, Hazel, and it draws power from the waning crescent moon. It's too complicated. We can't be lighting fires in his backyard. It's way too conspicuous." 

"What do we do, then?" 

"Carve a protective rune in a tree, or something. Wave some lighted sage around for good measure." 

"That's only temporary. There's only so many trees around his house to carve runes in so that it's not noticeable." 

Nico's eyes were repleted with contemplation, and a twinge of sadness. Hazel tilted her head. 

"He's forgotten you."

"I'm not completely sure," was Nico's response. "He was staring at me earlier. He recognized me."

Her eyebrows raised. "He did?" 

"But I'm sure he didn't know who I was. He would have sat with me if he did." Nico fiddled with the crescent moon ring that adorned his left ring finger. "It's hard. Pretending not to know him, that is. Pretending I hadn't missed him all these years." 

Hazel nodded. "But he will know you, soon enough." 

"Tyler got to him before I got a chance. He probably thinks I'm a monster. Or a weirdo."

"Well, you kind of are a weirdo." 

He gave her his dark stare, which he inherited from his father. She formed a certain resilience to it, after all the years they'd spent together. 

"Hold on. The curse will bring him to you. It brought him back here." 

Nico sighed as he watched Percy lay in his bed and stare at the ceiling with his fingers crossed over his chest, his eyes troubled, lost in thought. He reached for the smoke, but it slipped through his thin, pale fingers. The image disappeared in the darkness, leaving only the candle flame ablaze. 

"But will he find me?"

"He already has." 

Nico shook his head and reached two digits to the purple, flickering flame. "Not yet."

He closed the pads of his fingers around the wick of the candle, extinguishing the candlelight, and the room was cloaked in darkness.


	5. Looking Too Closely

Night crept over Bloomsbury, and Percy tossed in his bed, in fruitless pursuit of sleep. He connected the dots of the textured ceiling tiles overhead as he thought to when Tyler gave him a tour of the town several days ago. He had shown him everywhere, or mostly everywhere: places that were good, places that were decent, and the general directions of places that should be avoided. The trail to the woods was one of the bad places. 

Despite being surrounded by the forests, no one ever ventured into them—only the local law enforcement, if necessary. They were calming, Percy thought, but the other residents didn't seem to think so. 

He had brought up the wrought iron gate in the woods, and Tyler looked at him hysterically. That was one of the last places anyone rational would go, he said. Did the owner shoot anyone that he caught on the premises? Percy didn't know. He felt like there was something Tyler wasn't telling him, and it annoyed him. If it were dangerous, why wouldn't someone tell him? 

Percy shook his head and pulled his blanket over his shoulders. He didn't have the courage to go downstairs in the middle of the night, and he knew he wouldn't until he was accustomed to the house, whenever that would be. He was still afraid someone would jump out at him and murder him without giving him the time to scream. 

The breeze that entered his room from his window rustled his hair, but it was still too hot to fall asleep comfortably. He sighed. He had school in the morning, and he would be too tired to pay attention. 

He peered out the window and was shocked to see a form—human-sized, but too dark to discern the features. He lifted himself onto his elbow to examine it more closely. The shadow remained still, standing near one of the many pine trees that towered over his house. It definitely was a person. His heart dropped in his stomach as he watched it for awhile, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him, no doubt a result of his exhaustion, or if someone was actually standing there, peering up at his bedroom window. 

He strode over to his window, watching the dark shape disappear into the woods and become one with the night. His heart palpitated in his chest—erratic and terrified. He wondered if he dared to run downstairs to grab a kitchen knife to defend himself, or if he were to risk a bit of dignity and run for solace in his mom's room, to crawl under her covers like a child and explain what he saw. 

It wasn't real; it couldn't have been. He was just seeing shadows. He convinced himself that there was nothing to be afraid of as he situated back into his bed and, eventually, fell asleep. 

The next morning, while eating breakfast, his eyes found the tree the shadow was standing by, watching him, and saw a horrific sight: the bark had a pattern carved into it. 

Leaving his half-empty bowl of cereal on the table, he burst out the door and ran to the tree to see the image on the tree. It was a Nordic-esque letter, like a symbol he would find on a Viking shield. It looked like an upside-down peace sign, but the circle was absent, or a bird's footprint. He traced the smooth shape with the pad of his finger. Someone had been there last night, watching him and carving that symbol into the bark of the tree. Did it mean something, a warning, a gang sign, or was it something more sinister? 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a quick picture of it before hearing his mom call to him from the kitchen window. He didn't want to be late for school. He shoved his phone into his pocket and returning to the house to hurriedly finish his breakfast. He slung one of his backpack straps over his shoulder. A shiver coursed down his spine as he started for the school. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊  


The school library was a cluttered mess of books and other things. There wasn't much room for tables, so the ones they could fit in the room were carelessly shoved together in the middle of the room. Some old computers sat in the back—they were pretty big and slow, so others didn't use them often. 

Unfortunately, there wasn't any service in the school, no matter where he went, it seemed, so he had to resort to the old, creepy library for assistance. He had an inkling that if he showed the picture of the symbol to Tyler, he would give him that scornful look that he gave him whenever he asked about the strange cliche of kids. He had a strong feeling that Tyler was withholding crucial information from him. 

He wasn't sure if he wanted to know who was standing outside his window the night before, but he supposed it would help if he knew whether or not his life was in danger. 

Percy sat himself in one of the old, tweed-patterned office chairs and scooted up to the table. He reached down to type in his information, receiving a thin layer of dust on his fingertips. He waited a few minutes—impatiently—for the computer to boot up. The computer still used Internet Explorer, but he guessed it would have to do. He clicked the address bar with the oddly-shaped mouse and typed in his search: "Ancient Norse letters."

He held his phone up to the screen at the several letters to compare, but the ones that looked remotely similar didn't make sense. The bird-foot shape meant "M" in one, and "X" in another, and he was certain that whoever left the mark wasn't trying to teach him the alphabet. He continued to scroll through the countless images of strange runes that either didn't make sense or didn't match the mark. 

A thud sounded through the cluttered bookshelves of the library, and Percy jolted, snapping his head to the origin of the noise, but no one was there. He turned his head back to the screen. He continued to look, but he was left more confused than when he began. Resigned, he closed out of the page and logged out before leaving the library. A feeling of foreboding found sanctuary in his gut, and no matter how hard Percy tried to push it away, it persisted. It was there to stay. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The brilliant fire flickered in the wind, casting the shadows of five people on the darkened grass. Billows of smoke filtered through the silhouettes of trees. Little flames of candles encircled the figures, dancing in the night breeze. Latin chants, whispers, could be heard over the rustling of pine needles. The waning crescent moon shone above the tops of the tall trees. 

Nico di Angelo stared into the depths of the flickering fire, the golden lambency of the fire coloring his pale skin gold. He felt sparks dance on his fingertips as he waved his fingers unconsciously, his thoughts caught in the fire that raged before him. 

He thought of the night before. Percy saw him, carefully carving Algiz and other protective symbols into the rough bark of the pine trees outside his window, on the border of where the woods met Bloomsbury. He wished he could've took more preventive measures. Percy knew it was him, he thought. He had given him a strange look in fourth period— a fearful look. Tyler must've told him about the evilness that shrouded him and his family. He balled his fists in frustration, the fire raging more intensely before him. 

He was jolted out of his thoughts by a gentle hand resting on his shoulder. He looked up to see his father, his countenance stern. 

"Nico, full concentration is required to successfully repel the Darkness."

He looked back to the fire, now a gentle flame opposed to the large blaze it had been. "I know." 

He glanced over to Hazel, who smiled at him with a placating look in her golden eyes, before she raised the hood over her untamable mane of curly hair, her dark skin illuminated by the lambent firelight. The others followed suit, situating their robes over their shoulders and lighting their candles with careful hands, the small flames flickering in the gentle zephyr that felt cool on their skin opposed to the heat of the fire.

Nico pulled the hood of the robe over his eyes. Latin words poured from his lips like the others, and he watched the smoke billow into the starry sky.


	6. Night Visions

The woods were the same, somehow. Percy just couldn't put his finger on it. The dream was coated with the golden haze of a memory, but he didn't remember being there before. He was running with another person through the woods, leaping over the stream and maneuvering around the silvery trunks of the trees. They were playing a game, he thought. He didn't have any reasoning behind it, he just knew. He knew he felt deeply for whoever he was playing with. He wanted to kiss him, hidden in the sea of trees and from the eyes of their parents. He had a matching scar on his left ring finger. He was incredibly familiar, but it felt like he hadn't seen him in years. 

He loved him, and he was reminded of the fact whenever he laughed. 

They had a place where they would go when their parents called them in for dinner. It was a little, hollowed-out tunnel beneath the ground, the roof composed of dirt and thin roots. It was shallow, and they had to crawl to enter it, but Percy would always go in first to see if it was safe. It always was. 

Those brown eyes were scorched into his memory. He'd seen them before. He just didn't know where.

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊  


The final bell of the day resounded through the hallways of the school, apprising the students that they could finally return home for the weekend. 

Nico nearly had been falling asleep in almost every class period. He was sure Percy had noticed. He kept looking back at him concernedly. 

He smiled to himself. He hoped he was concerned. That would mean the Percy he knew hadn't faded away completely. He had yet to speak to him, though. Nico thought he would have to take initiative, but he was nervous. He didn't want to face rejection, or to confirm one of his biggest fears: that Percy had forgotten him completely. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊  


Percy finished packing up and closed his locker behind him, ready to go home for the weekend. 

He felt eyes on him as he walked out to his car. The eerie feeling crept up on his shoulders. He turned to see the strange boy watching him. 

"What?" he called.

He looked surprised by his question. 

"This is getting kind of annoying. Do you want something? Are you trying to fight me? What?"

The boy stammered slightly, his cheeks gaining heat. 

"I-I-I just... I thought..." 

Percy turned to his car, rolling his eyes. 

Then he said something weird: "You just look familiar." 

Percy stopped in his tracks. It could have been a coincidence. He didn't know him, but the feeling was mutual. 

He shook his head. He had experienced stranger things in his life than someone he never met who looked eerily familiar. 

He looked back at him. "I've never seen you before in my life," he told him. He climbed in his car and left.

Nico watched the car pull out of the parking lot and disappear around a corner. He stood there in the small parking lot, his heart shattering to pieces. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Percy dropped his backpack on his carpet and sat on the bed, the springs squeaking beneath him. What a strange day. Tyler was being cryptic. He didn't like it when people hid things from him. What was so terrible that he had to keep it from him? Did a second wave of the Holocaust happen here? Seeing how he avoided the subject so carefully, Percy would have thought so. 

He stopped by the elementary school today. Tyson was content with his school, but the other kids looked so diligent. Not a outburst could be heard. No one cried. No one spoke out of turn. He felt a strange aura, like he was in the middle of a nightmare. He didn't want Tyson to go there anymore, but he had to. There was no homeschooling methods available in the small town, and Tyson seemed to enjoy it enough. 

He shook his head. The kids were probably just well-behaved because their parents were really hard on them, discipline-wise. There was some kind of unspoken rulebook of Bloomsbury. He would just have had to live there for awhile to understand it. 

His phone vibrated in his bag. He hoped it was Grover, so he could tell him how weird Bloomsbury was. 

He unzipped his bag and reached inside blindly, feeling around the pencils thrown carelessly in with the rest of the stuff. He felt coarse fabric, like burlap. He creased his eyebrows in confusion before wrapping his fingers around it and pulling it from his bag. 

_What the hell is this?_ he thought.

It was a little burlap bag, with a string tied around the top to keep its contents inside. He turned it in his hand, examining the peculiar object. When he shook it, it made little rattling noises. He pulled the string to open it. When it unfurled, he saw the contents. There were strange rocks, dried plants, and little bones. Probably of birds. 

Shocked, he dropped the bag on the floor. He stared at it, his breathing rapid. He turned and ran from the room.

He took a brief walk around town, trying to wrap his head around it. What was that? Why was it in his backpack? He had a bad feeling about it. The trees loomed over him, and he suddenly felt claustrophobic. What the hell was wrong with this town? He ran, not caring about what the people walking down the sidewalks thought about his strange behavior. 

He returned home, but when he strode up the stairs to his room, the little bag he left on his carpet was gone. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The weird boy was assigned to be his lab partner in Culinary Arts, but Percy didn't really want to talk to him. He acted strangely around him. He would start wiggling his fingers, then suddenly forcefully grab his hand with his other. Percy chose to ignore him. 

Percy was getting out the cookie sheets when the boy spoke to him. 

"So, where are you from?"

"New York." 

He nodded solemnly. "Is it nice there?" 

"Yes. Loud, but it's nice."

"Why'd you come here?" the way he asked it made it sound like he already knew the answer. 

"My mom's writing a book. She wanted to have a quiet working environment. To me, it seemed like she just pointed at a random place on a map and decided to move there." 

The boy laughed slightly. "Yeah. No one really comes here. We're in the middle of nowhere." 

Percy nodded. 

The boy seemed to not know how to continue the conversation, and neither did Percy. So they remained quiet. 

When the cookies were almost done, the boy suddenly held his hand out to him. 

"I forgot. I'm Nico."

Percy creased his eyebrows in confusion, but he accepted his gesture and shook his hand. "Percy." 

His hand was warm. Slightly sweaty, but warm. Soft. His hand was pale compared to his own, and his nails were painted black. Percy hoped he wasn't stuck with a weirdo, like someone who made sacrifices to the moon god, or whatever. He seemed nice enough, though. He just didn't know how to talk to people. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Percy sat with Nico at lunch. He decided that if he wanted a friend, he didn't want one that hid things from him. It was stupid. He didn't care if he was committing social suicide by sitting with him. He was a nice kid.

He cast him a shy smile. Percy's heart fluttered, although he didn't know why. 

"So, do you, I dunno, watch tv here, or is it completely off the grid?"

The kids at the table laughed. 

"No," Nico said, "everyone watches tv. Phone service isn't really great out here, but it still works." 

"I've noticed," Percy said. "There's none inside the school."

"I think they've made it that way on purpose," a younger girl said. She had curly hair and warm brown skin. She looked completely normal. They all did. He didn't know why they were considered weird. Maybe they were part of a secret cult, or something. 

That would explain the weird symbol carved in the trees.

He shook his head. He was jumping to conclusions and judgments too quickly. 

Nico and he bonded over their shared love for Supernatural. Everyone else snickered, but Nico silenced them with a look. 

Those brown eyes, Percy thought. Ordinary, but he would know them anywhere. In fact, he dreamed of them the night before.


	7. Season of the Witch

Percy began to take walks in the woods. No one bothered him there. The freshness of the forest air sent him into a state of lingering tranquility. There were no secrets in these woods. They told him their stories by a wisp of the wind, rustling of pine needles, or the crunch of the dead foliage beneath his feet. The woods would always tell the truth. In that way, it made them better than anyone. 

He didn't understand why everyone was so secretive. Did they feel like he was too stupid or too naïve to understand? He wasn't a child. He could take it. 

Tyler had been tentative, as if he was trying to tell him something, anything, and if he did, Percy was all ears. But until he told him, he didn't to share any conversations with him. He didn't want him to try and convince him that his newfound friends were bad people. 

They were strange, but not bad. 

Nico and he had been texting for a while, and Nico wasn't nearly as terrible or creepy as everyone made him out to be. The facts that he wasn't good at communicating face-to-face with people and that he painted his nails every now and then turned them away, but he wasn't a bad person in the slightest. He was crazy good at cooking in Culinary. He loved Supernatural. He sent Percy memes at 2 AM. It was kind of nice, actually, to feel like even if this place was a transient part of his life, it wasn't completely unenjoyable. 

Nico's friends were great, too. Hazel was sweet, Leo was funny, Frank was friendly. Piper was fun to be around, Will was insightful, Alabaster was nonchalant. They were normal. Just because they had more modern ideas than the others didn't mean that they were evil. 

He was still spooked about the bag and the trees. The person standing outside his window that one night. How it felt like someone was always watching him. 

The trees could have been his new friends messing around with the adults, like a rural type of graffiti, which would make sense. The bag, however, wasn't so easily explainable. Maybe it was just the others trying to freak him out. They didn't get new kids very often, Tyler explained. Maybe they were just having fun with him. He remembered the bird bones and rocks, all tied together. He felt a shudder erupt down his back. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Nico leaned back in his chair as he fiddled with the ring on his left ring finger. It was a crescent moon most days, but sometimes he switched it to a simple band. Percy looked to his own. 

Piper had joked with the two of them at lunch about their rings. 

"When's the wedding?" she asked playfully. 

"What?" Nico asked, confused. 

She gestured at their left hands, which were both resting on the table. "You guys are wearing nearly matching rings on your wedding ring fingers. Aww, are you guys already married?" 

"No," they answered in almost perfect unison. 

Nico's cheeks had flushed bright pink. 

Percy shook out of his thoughts as he watched Nico. He shared a few classes with Nico, despite him being a sophomore. It was kind of nice to have a familiar person to look over to when he was bored. Sometimes, they passed notes back and forth, talking about nothing. Even if it was just writing "hi" repeatedly, it was something to keep him from complete boredom. He could also pair up with him if they were doing partner projects. 

He felt like he'd known Nico his whole life, despite meeting him a mere few weeks before. He'd been living in an endless state of déjà vu. He'd dreamt about him. 

It could have all been a coincidence. What he would give just to know the truth. Why Nico looked familiar. Why no one would tell him anything. Why he found that bag in his backpack. Who stood outside his window. Who lived behind the gate in the woods. 

Maybe, he thought, there were truths he'd rather be ignorant of. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

If Tyler had something to say to him, Percy didn’t care. He had been lurking around with a look on his face that told him almost everything. He was untrustworthy, quick to judge, and condemning. Percy didn’t like that in people. So, he wouldn’t listen to anything he had to say, especially if Tyler deemed him too unimportant to tell him straight. 

Tyler approached him at his locker. Percy rolled his eyes and kept his eyes on the notebooks he placed on the shelf. 

“What do you want? If you got something to say, say it.” 

“I can’t tell you here.” 

“Why not?” 

“People might be listening.” 

“Does it matter?” 

He nodded, and Percy shut the metal door with a resigned sigh. 

If Tyler wanted to play this game, he would play. Just for a little while. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. 

He followed Tyler out the door with his backpack strap slung over his shoulder. He was hesitant when Tyler disappeared around the corner. Was he trying to corner him, to isolate him and jump him in the lot behind the school. 

Percy took a deep breath and braced himself for whatever was to come from stepping around the corner. Fortunately, it was just Tyler, attempting to lean inconspicuously against the brick wall. As he approached him, he prepared to defend Nico from the onslaught of insults that was inevitably going to spew from Tyler’s mouth. 

Percy crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at the blond boy. 

“So? What do you need to tell me?” 

He looked around to see if anyone followed them, and when he was assured they were finally alone, he gave Percy a hard look. 

“You need to stay away from them. Didn’t I tell you? Nothing good will come of hanging around with the likes of them.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with them. They’re normal people.” 

He shook his head. 

“Well, you’re the one being cryptic, not telling me things,” Percy snapped. “That’s shady, if you ask me. They’re just trying to live their lives.” 

Tyler sighed, lifting his hand to his hair. “Well, if I told you, you wouldn’t really believe me, would you?” 

“I’ll make the judgement when you tell me.” 

He sighed again, and in a low tone, he murmured, “They’re witches.” 

Percy had to restrain himself from laughing. _That_ was what he had been so tentative and nervous to tell him? In that case, he didn’t blame him. He was crazy. 

_“Witches?”_

“Yeah. They do rituals in the woods.” 

Percy shook his head and walked away, anchoring his hands in his pockets. Tyler shouted after him, but he just kept on walking. 


	8. The Ritual

Percy listened to the crickets chirp from outside as he stared up at the ceiling. He checked his phone again, but there were no new messages. Nico wasn't texting him back. Perhaps he wasn't getting them. The service was touchy there, anyway, with all the trees. 

What Tyler said, it was ridiculous. _Witches?_ No wonder they were hiding it from him. They were _crazy._

But, there was that strange symbol carved into the bark of that tree, and it seemed to be spreading. There was that little burlap bag he found in his backpack, too. And Nico was one to act strangely, not eating anything at lunch, but he claimed he just wasn't hungry. _Maybe because he ate spiders and stuff like that._

He shook his head. It seemed Tyler wasn't the only crazy one. Perhaps insanity was contagious. 

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed the crickets had stopped chirping. The night was quiet. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and glanced outside to the wood. There was a copious amount of smoke billowing through the tops of the trees. 

Percy leaped out of his bed. Was it a forest fire? He wasn't sure. He considered calling the fire department, but he decided against it. He didn't want to cause an uproar over a campfire, if that what it was. But that was a lot of smoke. 

Even if every instinct was yelling against it, he was going to investigate. He pulled his hoodie over his head and quickly slipped on a pair of sneakers. As an afterthought, he snatched the flashlight from his nightstand. It would be a mistake to go in blind. If it was just a campfire, he would think nothing of it and return home, but if it were something else entirely, he wouldn't know what to think. A jolt of fear erupted down his spine, but he shook it off. Tyler's concerns effected his thoughts more than he cared to admit. 

There was no such thing as witches. And the kind boy that laughed at his jokes and scrunched up his nose at the thought of school lunch definitely could not be one. 

Once he stepped out the front door, he felt an immediate urge to return to his bedroom and forget he saw anything. But, if it was dangerous, and no one was there to stop it, he would regret it for the rest of his life. He didn't want to see this house—his mother loved it, and Tyson was happy here—go up in flames. 

The waning crescent moon shone silver in the sky as Percy hurried down the front steps, all his rational thoughts to return arguing with his morals, and, relinquishing his fears, he strode into the sea of trees. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The smoke rose up in columns into the starless sky. The sky was an empty chasm, void of life and light. It looked like it could swallow Nico whole, and nobody would notice. 

They finished the first portion of the ritual, the flames of the candles circled around the fire flickering and the chants lost into the darkness. 

The Darkness was close. Nico could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Everyone was so desperate to ward it off until it returned again. It was an endless cycle. Nico wasn't sure why. It was evil, his father told him. It was a destructive and deadly force. Many witches had fallen dead from it. 

Nico didn't know what it was, or why it deserved his fear. Maybe the reactions of all the adults towards it inspired his fear more than the force itself. 

The waning crescent moon made it feel like his power was surging through his veins. It was a good feeling, but he felt like he was putting the power to waste trying to repel a force that was just going to come back, anyway. It was tedious. 

Maybe the Darkness had put its sights on him and wanted him to think it. Maybe it wanted him to be unafraid so it could grapple onto him and pull him under. 

Nico's eyes found his father, whose hood hung low over his eyes, casting shadows on his face. He was the most determined to see the Darkness gone for the time being. Nico didn't know the reason for his father's hatred and fear, either. No matter how many times he asked, he never got an answer he was satisfied with. Maybe his father thought that it's evilness was justification enough, but it wasn't for Nico. 

If he knew what it was, maybe he'd be more inclined to repel it. But, he feared no one quite knew what it was, either. 

They avoided talking about the Darkness as much as possible to prevent it from coming faster than usual, than building up and returning before the next waning crescent moon. The coven wouldn't be equipped with enough magic to repel the Darkness without drawing power from it. 

Nico was snatched from his thoughts by his father preparing to begin the next ceremony of the ritual. He reluctantly lifted the hood of his cloak over his head and watched the fire dance. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The beam of light from Percy's flashlight sliced through the darkness of the woods. Even with his hoodie on, the briskness of the air bit at his skin. He shivered slightly, but he pressed on, following the trails of stones and sticks to the smoke emerging from the tops of the trees. 

The fire was getting closer. He could smell the smoke, hanging heavily in the air. It stung his eyes, almost as if he was standing right next to it. 

He could eventually see the orange glow of fire through the sea of trees. It wasn't too far away. It hadn't engulfed the entirety of the woods yet, so he chalked it down to be just a campfire. A large campfire. 

He was relieved to know it wasn't dangerous, and he was about to turn back to his house. 

He saw shadows of figures dance through the flames, and he held his flashlight still in his hand. His curiosity still got the best of him. He wanted to know who was there, sitting beside the fire. He continued through the woods. It began to feel like the beginning of a bad dream, dread filling his abdomen. But, he pressed on. He felt like if he was in a horror movie, he would die without a doubt, but he wasn't. The orange glow was getting bigger as he neared it. 

Soon, he could hear voices, barely intelligible over the soft whistling of the wind and rustling of pine needles. 

He hid behind a trunk of a tree, quickly turning his flashlight off so he wouldn't be spotted. The feeling was there again, the one that told him he wasn't supposed to be here. That it was wrong. He was intruding. 

He saw a silhouette stroll by, and it seemed to be something out of a nightmare. Robed figures around a large fire. He wasn't sure if they were sacrificing something, or someone. If he was seen, would he be the one sacrificed. They muttered words in a language he wasn't familiar with. They sliced their palms with a silver knife and clenched their fingers, allowing the crimson drops to escape their grasp and drip into the fire. Candles dripped wax onto the foliage, the dead pine needles, dirt, stones, and small twigs. 

His breath caught in his throat as the flame flashed red, if only for a second, illuminating the faces of some of the people facing the fire. 

He saw familiar faces, and ones that belonged to strangers, mostly adults. Hazel, Piper, Alabaster. 

Tyler's words echoed in the walls of his mind. _"They're witches. They do rituals in the woods."_

They lowered their hoods and Percy see him. Nico looked distractedly into the fire, wrapping his hand in cloth. Then, he glanced up, shaking out of his thoughts, and found Percy's eyes. Nico looked about as shocked as Percy thought he looked. Then, he realized. He had been caught. Percy shook his head and began to run, his flashlight a piece of cold metal in his hand. He struggled to turn it on while he darted through the woods, guided only by silhouettes of trees and the dim, silver light that shone through them. 

He heard his name shouted in the distance. He looked back and saw another light moving through the woods. Following him. Nico was chasing him. 

He tripped over a tree root that emerged from the foliage and sprawled on the ground. A rock had cut through the leg of his jeans and his blood glistened through the fabric. He groaned in pain, and looked back up to the trees, The light was nearing him. He scrambled to his feet and continued to run as fast as he could though his pain, away from what he'd seen and the boy pursuing him. 

He didn't need an explanation. He knew what he saw. They were performing a ritual of some kind. Like the hex bag in his backpack and the runes on the trees. 

"Percy! Wait!" Nico shouted after him. 

He could slightly hear Nico's trampling of the forest floor over his own, lessened by distance. Percy was glad he could run, but it seemed like Nico could, too. 

His leg stung, and he could hear Nico was gaining on him. He knew he would be found if he hid. Nico knew the woods better than he. He could use a spell to locate him. 

He made it to the road, cutting through the woods. He caught his breath as briefly as he could. Nico emerged from the woods, hardly looking tired at all. 

"Percy, I—" 

Percy shook his head and backed into the road. He saw the close pair of headlights before he could make a movement. The brakes screeched as the car attempted to stop. 

_"Percy!"_ With a wave of Nico's bandaged hand, the car smashed into a disk of blue light. 

Percy fell back on the street, more of shock than clumsiness. 

He watched Nico's legs approach him, and his vision faded to black.


	9. Brought to Light

When Percy woke, he was in his bed. The sunlight bled through the closed curtains. His head ached. His thoughts returned to the night before, to the fire, the figures around it, Nico's expression when he saw him... He shook his head and attempted to sit up, but a jolt of pain shot up his leg and hindered his movements. He peeled the blanket from his body to examine his wound. His leg had been bandaged, a large, dark spot staining the tan fabric. 

He had no memory of returning to the house. He only remembered the headlights and Nico's voice. Then, the car smashed into the blue disk of light... He must've passed out. Maybe Nico had helped him back to the house. 

Shivers erupted through him when he remembered what he witnessed. It felt surreal, like it was a bad dream, but the bandage on his leg was hard evidence. The pain he felt was real. What he had seen was real. Nico was a witch, or a warlock, or whatever they called them. 

_They're witches,_ Tyler had said. _They do rituals in the woods._

He shook his head and limped out of bed. As he made his way to his dresser, he heard his phone vibrate on the nightstand. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see what it was. He looked at it, anyway. It was a simple text from Nico. 

_"We need to talk."_

It was abrupt, so much that it scared Percy, but, then again, there wasn't much that hadn't scared him lately. 

He didn't answer him. He didn't want to talk to him. He wanted to forget what he'd seen. Maybe that's what Nico wanted, too. To use a spell to wipe his memory. But, he had the chance before, when he saved Percy from getting hit by the car. 

If it wasn't that, what did he want with him? 

He changed his clothes, brushed his hair and teeth, and grabbed his backpack before making his way out the door. He didn't want breakfast. He felt it would sit too heavily in his stomach. 

The school was the sight he wanted to see the least of all. Nico's friends sat solemnly—even more than usual—outside. They sat on the bench, staring at the asphalt in silence. They knew. They all knew that Percy had seen everything. 

Percy walked tensely through the hallway, hearing mutterings of a car accident last night and that a guy was hospitalized. He knew that if Nico hadn't somehow stopped the car, he would have gotten killed on impact, but he didn't feel grateful. It was terrifying. 

Nico didn't try to speak with him. He didn't try to spark conversations or send a piece of paper his way so they could scribble to each other on it. He looked guilty, like everything that happened was all his fault. 

Well, If Nico texted him back, Percy reasoned, none of this would have occurred, and he probably wouldn't have even noticed the smoke. He would have remained ignorant to Nico's extracurricular activities and lived out the remainder of his senior year in peace. 

He looked over at Nico again, slouching in his seat, his eyes distracted, and he wanted to apologize. He wanted to make him feel better, but he remained in his seat, not uttering a word to him. 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Percy skipped out on lunch—he wasn't hungry, anyway. He avoided teachers and other students in the hallway and swiftly absconded out the back door. 

He would get in trouble if they saw him, he knew, but his curiosity needed to be satiated somewhere, and he feared Tyler wouldn't have the answers he needed. 

He walked briskly to the public library down the street. It was a cozy place that didn't give Percy the creeps, unlike the school's own cluttered library. He signed into the computer sheet and stationed himself at one of the bulky, white ones that held the local newspaper archives. 

He searched for any evidence that what he'd seen was all a hoax, a trick of the eye, anything else but reality. The headlines and articles were mostly trivial, small town stuff. A new grocery store opened up. The old theatre downtown burned down. He clicked through paper after paper, year after year, but there was nothing to dismiss what he'd seen. 

Then, he found them. The pieces of material that falsified all the understandings of nature he developed over the years. 

_August 10, 1619. WITCHES!_

_November 10, 1722, WITCH HUNTS!_

The articles were as abundant as the trees in the forest. Witches, black magic, executions. Percy was aghast by the atrocities that occurred in the quiet town. 

The most recent:

 _May 10, 2000. THE DEVILS PUT TO DEATH! SEVEN HANGED!_

Percy was sure hanging was illegal for quite some time, but since the place was so secluded, it wasn't hard to believe that it was carried out inconspicuously. There was three people standing on a platform, black hoods draped over their heads, nooses hanging beside them patiently. 

Percy didn't want to take another glance at the horrific records the computer held. He felt sick. 

He took a quick glance at the clock above the doorway, and he nearly jumped out of his seat. He had lost track of time, it seemed. He promptly logged off and ran back to the school, arriving in his next class right before the bell rang. 

He met Nico's concerned gaze, and he knew that they did need to talk about it. Percy didn't think Nico was the one he was afraid of, anymore. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Nico was leaning against the bricks when Percy met him in the back lot, the same place he met with Tyler the day before. 

"Hi," Nico said quietly. 

Percy didn't respond. He looked at him, silently demanding an answer. 

Nico's gaze averted to the asphalt before meeting his eyes. 

"Do you believe in magic, Percy?"

If he had asked him the day before, Percy would have said no, but after the sight in the woods—a ritual, or whatever it was—he couldn't deny it. He wasn't seeing things. The man who almost ran him over in his car surely wasn't, either. 

"I don't really have another option, do I?"

Nico smiled slightly at his remark. "Are you curious?"

He contemplated, arguing with his willpower, before nodding his head. 

The younger boy's smile widened—not maliciously, but sweetly, almost excitedly. 

"Then walk with me." He wrapped his fingers gently around Percy's wrist—it sent a light jolt up his arm—and turned to the woods. 

"Does anyone attack you?" Percy asked, his feet dumbly following the boy in front of him. 

"Not anymore," Nico told him. "Not since I was five." 

Percy nodded. "Why did you save me?"

"Because we're the same." 

"What do you mean, 'we're the same'?" 

He huffed amusedly. "Would you like to find out?"

"You're being cryptic." 

Nico shrugged. "I have to be, or else you'll leave." 

"Why do you think I would leave?"

Nico appeared troubled, as if he was debating with himself. He shook his head slightly before turning around to face him. 

"You'd think I was crazy," Nico told him, keeping his pace. "I can tell you still are holding onto your skepticism." 

"It's hard not to. Where are you taking me?"

He gave Percy a coy, playful smile. "I want to show you something." 

He turned to face the woods. 

If it were coming from anyone else, Percy would decline. He would feel dread and fear. Perhaps he was a fool for feeling calm, knowing the events that occurred the night before. Why they all would like to see him dead. But, he wasn't dead. Nico saved his life. He was walking with him to an undisclosed location, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued. 

Nico cast him a smile over his shoulder and Percy followed him into the woods. 


	10. Willow Lane

As the two of them passed the slender trunks of pine trees, Percy felt the light breeze tousle his hair. It was still summer, but autumn hung heavily in the air and the first leaves began to fall from their branches. Finches called to each other from the treetops and ochre pine needles crunched beneath his shoes as he followed Nico, who navigated the woods as if he knew every tree, every rock, every stray branch that littered the forest floor. 

Not a word was exchanged between them as they crested small hills and carefully lowered themselves down steep slopes. 

Soon, Percy saw a familiar sight, a part of the woods he knew. They met the trail that led into the woods, slicing through the trees like a determined stream. 

He expected Nico to turn back, or to press on into the woods, but their shoes found the packed dirt of the trail, the overgrown grass spilling over the edges. Through the incessant, lanky trunks, he saw the iron fence, and a faded wooden sign he hadn't seen when he visited before. In worn paint, it read "Willow Lane".

"Umm," he spoke, but his voice didn't feel like his own. 

Nico turned nonetheless, giving him a reassuring look and pulled open the iron gate with ease. 

Percy stood there in surprise before following Nico through the gate. Maybe he wouldn't get that strange feeling now that he wasn't wandering in there alone. 

"This is yours?" 

"Well, it's my sort-of family's. You'll meet them all soon. You've already met the ones at school." 

"Hazel, Piper, Leo, they're..." Percy paused, uncertain if he should have continued.

"You can say it. It's nothing offensive." 

"Witches," he said slowly, deliberately. It kind of alleviated the feeling he held inside of him now that he said it. 

Nico smiled. "Yep. Do you have any other pressing questions that you're dying to ask me?" 

"Depends. Are you going to kill me?" 

Nico looked unsure if it was a joke. It was, partially. 

"No. Too much work."

Percy smiled slightly as he followed Nico through the trees. 

"Did you carve all those drawings into the trees?" 

"Yep." 

"And put the weird bag-thing in my backpack?" 

"Those were for protection." 

"From what?"

"Things," he said. "It's too complicated to explain to you right now. Anything else?" 

"What were you doing? At the ritual, thing-y. Were you, like...?" 

"'Like' what?" 

"I dunno, sacrificing things?" 

He scoffed lightheartedly at his question, but there was slight bitterness hanging off the edges of his tone. "No. We never sacrifice anything. We don't worship the Devil, and we don't kill babies, just in case you were curious." 

He looked to the foliage, feeling a twinge of guiltiness. "Sorry." 

"No, it's okay," he said. "I guess I'm just tired of the assumptions. I get enough of that at school." 

"Fair enough."

They continued down the path until they met a small creek. 

"It's just around the corner, here," Nico informed him. 

He craned his neck to see a group of large houses, arranged in a cozy manner. Most of them had three floors, smoke spilling from their chimneys. They held a sort of strangeness to them, as if they were very, very old, but somehow new. As if he'd seen them in a dream. 

A weird feeling crawled its way into Percy's stomach as he beheld the cluster of large houses. 

"You live here?" Percy asked.

"No, we live in the trees," Nico told him, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Percy ignored him, trying to search within his deepest memories for when he'd seen this place. It was similar, but not as strong of a feeling, to when he looked at Nico. His deep brown eyes and his dark hair and the ring around his left finger. 

"Would you like to come in?" Nico asked him, gesturing to one of the houses. 

He followed Nico dumbly up the steps to the front door. 

The house was beautiful. The base of the house was a cluster of tan and grey stones, laid elegantly. The large windows shone black in the sunlight. The ends of the roof were pointed in a steeple-like fashion, like those on old Victorian houses. 

His mom would love it, Percy thought to himself as Nico retrieved the spare key and unlocked the door. Percy found it strange he didn't use magic.

Once the door opened, the potent smell of sage and incense seized him. They kicked their shoes off in the foyer and Percy followed Nico into the living room. 

His house was bigger than Percy's; he was jealous. From what he'd seen, there was a staircase leading upstairs, a room that branched off into the dining room and kitchen, and a long hallway that led into darkness.

A fire crackled in the hearth, the furniture was fashioned in a cozy fashion, with elaborate house plants and plush furniture. The walls were stained spruce wood, smooth and glistening beneath the lambency of the firelight. 

The carpet felt plush beneath Percy's socks as he looked around, curious of what else the large house held. 

Nico fiddled with his ring, almost in a nervous manner, before he beckoned Percy to follow him further. He determinedly led him up the stairs and down another endless hallway. If Nico wasn't here to guide him, he would never be able to find a way out. He had never been in such a large, winding, labyrinth of a house. 

Such a large, yet familiar house. 

"Hey, Nico?" Percy asked, stopping in his tracks. 

"Yes?" 

"Why did you bring me here?"

"You're looking for answers, aren't you?"

He hesitantly nodded.

Nico knocked loudly on a door and waited for a response. After seemingly no acknowledgement, he knocked again. 

"I've told you several times! Don't bother me when I'm finishing my work!" Came a frustrated, male voice from the other side of the door. The door swung open, revealing a man with sandy brown hair, who was not much older than thirty-five. He looked at Nico, who, determinable by his expression, was not who he expected him to be, and to Percy, his golden eyes glistening with surprise and curiosity. 

"Percy, this is your grandfather, Kronos," Nico introduced, rendering Percy speechless. "He's going to help me explain everything." 


	11. Seeking the Truth

Percy sat on an arm of the plush red armchair in the corner of the room. The man, his grandfather, faced him from the desk, seated in an equally plush desk chair and bouncing his knee. Percy saw where he got his fidgety-ness from. 

Nico stood in the doorway, leaning lightly against the doorframe. He looked between the two other men with a pleased smile on his face. 

There was one question, however, that pressed Percy's mind. 

"How... How are you still young if you're my grandfather?" 

"Witches don't age after they finish puberty. Magic circulates your veins. It sits at your core. Magic may be old, but it is eternally youthful, as are we." 

"So, I'm..." Percy looked up to Nico. "I'm one of you, too?" 

"Yes," Nico responded.

"Is my mom...?" 

"No, she's a human," Kronos told him, his golden eyes glinting with an emotion Percy couldn't place. "Your father was. He was one of the best that ever graced the House of Kronos." 

Percy's gaze reverted to the chestnut wood floor, his green eyes troubled. "I'm..." 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to react. He sat back and tried to take it all in. It was a lot; too much, in fact. Maybe he just went crazy from the reclusiveness of Bloomsbury, the looming trees driving him closer to insanity. 

If he opened his eyes, maybe he'd be in his bed. It was just all a lucid dream that he'd wake from, and he could go to school. He'd sit with Nico and tell him all about the crazy dream he'd had, and they would all laugh about it. 

But, when he opened his eyes, he still sat in the luxuriant room, his grandfather's golden eyes staring into his own, and Nico standing casually in the doorway. 

It was worth a try, he thought. 

He glanced around the room, wanting to look at anything but them. He examined the deep brown of the wood floor, the intricacies of the wall carvings. The desk, the rug, the window. The wooden arms of the chair he was seated in. The room was too quiet; it unnerved him. 

"If I'm..." he tried to collect his thoughts. "If I'm one of you, then I can do stuff?" 

Nico shrugged. "Yeah. You have to learn, though. Can you handle it?" 

"I don't know."

"Any grandchild of mine can handle it," said Kronos. "He's my blood, after all." 

Percy smiled slightly at his words. "I guess. But, I don't know the first thing about magic." 

Nico's eyes lit up, but his expression remained the same. "I'll teach you." 

"I think... I just need a little time to process this." 

Nico nodded, his enthusiasm fading. "Okay. Well, I still will teach you. Just let me know when you're ready." 

Percy stood, thanking his newly-found grandfather and followed Nico out the door. 

Percy felt like he was in a daze as he descended the stairs and left the house, now feeling the early evening breeze tousle his hair. Nico cast a small smile towards him, and it comforted him, somehow.

He walked with Nico to the fence, the foot of the trail that cut through the woods, leading back to Bloomsbury. The houses enchanted him—he wanted to stay. He wanted to sit and talk with his grandfather and meet everyone else, but at the same time, he wanted to go home and sit on his new bed, allowing everything to sink in. He wanted to talk to his mom about everything and hear her side of the story, why she never told him about the whole other world he was a part of. 

Nico anchored his hands in the pockets of his skinny jeans as Percy sighed. 

"I'll... I'll come back tomorrow."

Nico seemed ecstatic. "Okay. See you at school." 

Percy nodded and made his way down the trail, the silence being filled with his many thoughts. He kept his eyes on the pebble-and-twig-littered trail as he continued. 

It wasn't long until he saw the first buildings going into Bloomsbury; his house was just a couple of blocks away. He strode past the post office and the limestone buildings, ensuring he made no contact with anyone. By what he read, he didn't want to be near them. Especially since he now knew he was one of them. That felt weird to think, that he was a witch. He spent his whole life feeling normal, being normal. He never suspected a hint of being different, the fact that he liked boys as well as girls excluded. 

The large house seemed smaller than it did before—he suspected that it was because he saw those large, winding houses in the woods, and every house in Bloomsbury paled in comparison to him. 

He ascended the porch steps and came in, taking his shoes off by the door. He stepped through the foyer and caught a glimpse of his mother making dinner in the kitchen (he didn't realize he was out for that long). He crept upstairs and dumped his backpack—it had begun to weigh down his shoulder—on his bed. When he returned downstairs, his mother looked crossly at him in the hallway. 

"Where have you been?" she asked, the wooden spoon still in her hand. "I don't think you've forgotten that you have a cell phone."

"I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't realize I was out for that long." 

She raised her eyebrows at him before shaking her head and returning to the pot on the stove. 

The hallway smelled of tomato sauce and cooking hamburger, Percy thought, as he followed his mom into the kitchen. 

"Actually, Mom, I have to talk to you." 

"What about?" she asked him, busying herself with stirring the pasta. 

"The witches, Mom."

She paused and looked briefly over her shoulder. 

"Is that the reason why we came here?"

"I know you must have a lot of questions..."

"Yeah, Mom, I have a million questions. Why haven't you told me? That I'm one of them?"

She sighed. "I wanted you to figure it out for yourself, Percy." 

"But, Mom, I..." 

"Would you have believed me?" she asked. "'Percy, I have to tell you something very important. Your father was a witch, and so are you. Surprise!'" 

Percy understood, but he was still angry. "I know, I know, but... I want to know. Who was he? You've always changed the subject whenever I asked about him." 

"I know, but I wanted to wait until you were ready. That's why we moved to Bloomsbury. But, I didn't lie about wanting to come here to write my book."

Percy sighed. "Mom, please. Who was he? Why did we move to New York? Why don't I remember anything?"

"One question at a time, please," she said, moving back to check the spaghetti. "Your father was a very kind man. He loved you, Percy. He loved you more than anything. He would have done anything for you. So, when the town went crazy with hunting the witches, he wanted to keep you safe. He told me to take you somewhere far away. You were seven, at the time. I didn't want to leave without him—I didn't want to raise you without a father, but he was insistent. So, we packed up and moved to New York. He stayed behind."

Percy remained quiet. 

"To keep you safe, he locked up all your memories. He didn't want this life for you. He wanted you to live a normal life away from—" she hesitated slightly—"all of this. Away from Bloomsbury. He felt that f you didn't remember it, you never would want to go back. But, I felt that was unfair, ripping memories from a child. You were meant to be here. Your family is here."

"The hangings," Percy spoke quietly. 

His mom's gaze softened. She nodded. "Many people died from it." 

"Including my father." 

She deemed the pasta done, so she moved the pot from the flame of the gas stove to the sink. 

"Sorry, Mom, I'm not hungry." 

He left the kitchen without another word and retreated up the stairs to his room. The door closed heavily behind him. He lied face-down on his bed, the smell of detergent calming him somewhat. His stomach was churning, stones piling in his head. 

In any other occasion, if he was told he had magic in him, he would be ecstatic. But, the magic in him was the same reason his father died, and the reason why he was in danger. His mom, she wanted him to learn who he really was. He appreciated the gesture—he was curious about everything he learned—but maybe if he was ignorant about the whole other side of him that remained hidden until a few hours ago, he would be happier. He wouldn't think twice about his father. 

He decided to push his father out of his thoughts years ago. It wasn't healthy to dwell on what could have been. His father was gone. Now, he returned, stronger than ever. His presence loomed over him, not allowing him to feel anything but remorse, like it was his fault he was dead. He didn't remember anything, and the only memories that escaped out of their captivity were short, abrupt dreams—mere glimpses of the past. Of Nico's deep, brown eyes. Running through the woods. Hiding from his parents in secret places with Nico. 

Nico wanted to teach him. He remembered his father. If he asked him, maybe he could give a decent explanation. He was the only one he felt he could trust with this information. But, he was just a child at the time.

He was tired of being lied to. He was tired of everyone keeping things from him. He wasn't a child anymore. He could handle the truth. If he couldn't hide from it, then he would chase it. He would do whatever it took. 


	12. The Coven

Despite the fact that almost everything was different, Percy found some solace in school; while it was unenjoyable at the least, it had an unchanging routine. The only thing that changed were the students in the hallways and the shifting seasons outside of its windows. 

Percy watched the orange leaves fall from their branches to join the others on the still-green grass. School was like a shelter from the ever-changing world. It almost made Percy forget about everything that had happened. 

It was like nothing had happened. Nico and he wrote inconspicuous notes back and forth in their co-ed classes. In Culinary, he joked with him over their loaves of zucchini bread, and at lunch, their conversations almost felt normal. Hazel was talking about a show she just started that she enjoyed. Leo, Will and Alabaster talked about nerdy stuff Percy didn't understand. Piper teased everyone over something or another. 

Nico's knee bumped against Percy's under the table and a jolt coursed through his leg. 

Nico blushed slightly, fiddling with his ring. It was the crescent moon one that day. 

Nico had a unique style that he would expect people who were famous on Tumblr had, and he wasn't sure if many people could pull it off like he could. His clothes were strange at times, like the light grey, crew-necked sweater with the cartoonish eye on it that he was wearing, with a long, green cardigan over it. 

He realized he was staring; if he looked at him any longer, Piper would tease him for sure. Instead, he focused on his food. 

He was usually the only one eating at the table. They didn't like the cafeteria food-- Nico hated it with a passion--and they usually ate after school, anyway. Percy would be more concerned for their health, but they all had a Culinary class sometime throughout the day that held them off until they got home. 

He was kind of excited, yet nervous for what after school held for him. He and Nico decided they would walk back to Percy's house and dump his stuff off there--and check in with his mom in the process so he wouldn't get in trouble. Then, they would make their way to the trail that led to Willow Lane. 

Nico wanted him to meet everyone before he taught him any magic. It made sense to him. He would be lying if he said he wasn't curious about who else lived in the numerous, large houses. He met his grandfather the day before; perhaps he could meet more of his family. He always wanted to have a big family. 

Nico brought him out of his trance by picking off a piece of his brownie. 

"Hey, hands off the brownie," he scolded, swatting his hand away. "I thought you hated cafeteria food." 

"I don't like the frozen meals and canned vegetables. I never said anything about the brownies." 

Percy honestly didn't mind. It was just fun to mess with him. 

He finished eating; he ended up giving the brownie to Nico, anyway. 

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. He noted the homework he had as he packed up his backpack, and he followed Nico out the front doors. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Nico's dad was an intimidating man, Percy found. His eyes were alike Nico's--a deep, chocolate brown--except they lacked the warmth that his son's had. They sent a shiver down Percy's spine as he stared him down. 

Percy stood in the living room, waiting for Nico to return from his room. 

"You've come back," said the man. 

It was a strange concept for a dad to look so young when he had a son that was halfway through high school. When Nico spoke of him, he imagined him with the wrinkles his mom had around her eyes. He did have facial hair, but his skin was practically glowing with youth. Quite alike his grandfather, now that he thought of it. His voice was deep and gruff, too. 

Nico's resemblance to his father was uncanny--even if Nico hadn't introduced him, he would have been able to tell that they were related. Nico was thinner, though. Shorter. His hair was longer, too, reaching half-way down his neck, with two longer strands at the front. It would have looked strange on anyone else, but he made it work. 

Percy almost forgot that the man spoke to him. 

"Yes, although I don't remember much." 

"You were young," he replied. "Memories tend to slip away easier when you're younger." 

Percy nodded, unsure how to respond. It seemed like Nico's dad was staring into his soul, trying to detect a hint of malice or ill-will within him. The man didn't seem to like him much. He wasn't sure why. 

"I suppose. It would be nice to remember more, though." 

The conversation seemed to die there, and they remained in an excruciating silence before Percy could hear Nico's footsteps getting louder as he came down the stairs. He nearly sighed in relief. 

"Percy," Nico called to him. "I'm sure everyone else is eager to see you. Come with me."

Percy heeded him and nodded a polite farewell to Nico's dad, who returned it, albeit curtly. 

He followed Nico down the meandering pathway between the houses. It seemed a lot more populous now, as people wandered around, watering their flowers, trimming their hedges, conversing between each other. Nico's house was at the end of the way. When he stood on his porch, Percy had a good view of the lines of houses. Each was zany and unique, looking completely different than the ones around it. Nico's seemed cozy, but Kronos' was cozier, with its stone fireplace, tall ceilings, and elegant floors. It seemed like an expensive cabin or summer home. 

It was surprising to learn the house belonged to him, too, and he was allowed to stay whenever he liked. The thought of exploring the rest of the house filled him with tremors of excitement. 

Percy counted thirteen of them, in total. One was light pink with white trim and spiraling hedges in front. Another was a bright yellow, seemingly reflecting rays of sunlight. 

Nico was introducing him to people left and right--they all seemed nice, or happy to see him. They hugged him, or shook his hand. He felt bad that he didn't remember them, but he didn't know if he could get his memories back from his dad's spell. He didn't remember any of their names, even after Nico introduced them. He felt embarrassed, but Nico seemed so happy to reunite him with the forgotten part of himself that he didn't utter a word of protest. 

Percy already knew the kids from school. Will lived in the bright yellow house. Piper lived in the pink house (she said that it was where Barbies went to die, which made him snort). Hazel, despite being Nico's sister, lived in a different house--it was an elegant light grey. Leo lived in the brick house that smelled like smoke. Alabaster lived in the dark purple house, which felt a little mystical when he walked past it. Annabeth lived in the grey stone house that looked ancient. One of the houses had a pig's head over the door with barbed wire on the roof--it definitely made him give it a double-take. Percy wasn't sure if the head was real, but, understanding the events that occurred the past couple of days, nothing would surprise him. 

As they neared the end of the line, Percy turned to Nico, his eagerness to learn more about magic swelling up and threatening to escape. 

He seemed to be through with introductions. 

"Welcome to the Coven, Percy," Nico told him, resting a delicate hand on his shoulder. It felt warm. "I hope you'll stay." 


	13. The Darkness

Percy stood in the woods, surrounded by slender trunks and the smell of pine as Nico walked circles around him, as if inspecting him. It was strange, Percy thought, but he didn't mind that Nico was being a little odd as long as he would teach him some magic, like he promised. 

Magic wasn't the only thing he wanted to know about, either, but he would be patient and wait until Nico was finished with whatever he was doing. 

Nico paused, as if he was finished with his inspection. The smell of pine and earth slightly nauseated Percy as the two of them stood in silence, surrounded by the mysticism of nature and the hypnotic rustling of leaves and pine needles. 

"Magic is an abstract concept, quite alike the universe," Nico spoke up. "It doesn't have many laws, or restrictions. It sort of lives within us, like a core." 

"So, can anyone do magic?" 

"No, not quite. A witch is born into magic, but magic can be learned if you are born into it." 

Percy must have given a strange look because Nico sighed resignedly. 

"I know it sounds complicated, but it really isn't." 

"Well, you grew up with it, didn't you?"

"I suppose that's true," he responded, a small smile playing at his lips. "I was born into shadow magic, but I know a lot more." 

"What magic was I born into?" 

"Water. It should be easier to learn since you were born into it. It's in your blood. But, that doesn't mean you can't learn other magic types, as well." 

"What kinds do you know?"

"Shadow, earth, air, spatial, ceremonial... some of the more basic kinds. I want to try to teach you earth magic, first. It's the first magic I learned." 

"How do you learn earth magic?" Percy asked. 

Nico's cheeks slightly tinged pink as he turned his back to Percy and pulled his shirt over his head. 

"Umm, Nico?" 

"Just... This is how I learned," Nico said, his tone embarrassed. "You have to be one with the earth to fully understand earth magic." 

He kicked off his Doc Martens and shimmied out of his skinny jeans, leaving him in only his boxers, and he placed his clothes neatly beside a tree. 

Percy watched him curiously as he settled on the ground. He lied in the foliage, staring up through the leaves, splintered rays of sunlight shining upon his pale skin. He closed his eyes and exhaled shakily. 

Percy felt his cheeks gain heat as he watched Nico, his arms sprawled out beside him as he felt the earth beneath him. He wasn't sure whether to speak up, in case it broke Nico's strange meditation. 

"You feel the earth beneath you," Nico spoke, softly. Percy almost had to strain to hear him. "You can feel its soul, intertwining with your own. Your magic cores blending together. Then, you just know." 

Nico opened his eyes, no longer looking bashful. 

"Should I...?" Percy hesitated. 

"I won't look." 

Percy nodded, comforted slightly by his words, and waited for Nico's eyes to close before undressing. He wondered if Nico was simply messing with him, and once he laid on the ground, Nico would laugh and tell him how stupid he looked, or how easy it was to fool him, but he never did. Nico remained silent, his hair spread beneath him like liquid darkness, catching brittle, dead leaves and pine needles in its midst. 

Percy settled carefully on the ground, the foliage poking at the tender skin of his shoulder blades. It was uncomfortable, painful at times, but Nico did it without displaying a single sign of discomfort. He must have done it a million times. Of course he did. Magic came naturally to him. 

Percy shook the distracting thoughts away and directed his eyes to the sky. It was a solid slate of light blue, obscured beneath the tall, dark trees. He closed his eyes, trying to replicate what Nico did. He felt the foliage beneath him more intensely, now. It poked and jabbed with every slight movement, and it kept Percy from his spirituality. He peeked slightly to see Nico still in the same position he was in before he closed his eyes, his porcelain chest facing the sky, rising and falling slowly with his relaxed breaths, his long, hairless legs caught in the foliage. 

Nico's eyes fluttered open, and Percy's head snapped back, his eyes closing quickly. It felt as if he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. Heat rose into his cheeks. His thoughts were on anything but the earth beneath him. 

Silence enveloped the space around them for several minutes before Percy heard the leaves rustling where Nico laid. 

"Make any progress?" he asked. 

Percy lifted himself onto his elbows. "I'm not sure." 

"That's okay. We can always continue another time." 

"Okay. What's the rush?" 

"Homework." 

"Oh," Percy said. He felt slightly disappointed. Despite Nico's bizarre teaching methods, he liked this time he spent out in the woods with him. 

Nico began to dress, and Percy wondered if it was a good time to ask him the questions he wanted answers to. 

"Hey, Nico," he said.

"Hm?"

"I was wondering... about the witch hunts." 

It was hardly discernable, but Nico paused his actions briefly. 

"What do you want to know?"

"Why did they happen?" 

Nico turned to face him. "I was wondering when you would ask. This town, it's peculiar, isn't it? It's dark, gloomy. It feels like it's trying to suffocate you. The majority of the population is overly religious, and the children are strangely well-behaved. Well, it's the same reason there are witch hunts." 

"What reason?" 

"It's an ancient dark magical force, Percy. No one truly understands it. Not my father, or Kronos. We call it the Darkness. It has a heavy influence over Bloomsbury." 

"What does it do?" 

"Dad says it catches ahold of you, and it doesn't let go. When it gets ahold of you, you either die terribly, or you do something terrible to someone else. It seems to affect most people: witches and mortals, but it affects everyone differently. We know that we can repel it, but I don't think it can be destroyed, or weakened." 

"How do you repel it?" 

"Remember the ritual, Percy? That's what we were doing. Its influence is getting stronger, and we're trying to repel it before there's another hunt. It's inevitable, I know, but as long as we can stave it off, no one has to die." 

"That's how my father died, right?"

Nico looked at him, surprised. "Yes. That was how he died. I'm sorry." 

Percy nodded. "Mom told me. I... I guess I just wanted to know him." 

"We can go see him tomorrow, if you want." 

"See him?"

"I know where he's buried, if you want to visit him." 

Percy's face fell slightly. "Oh. I mean, we can. I... I would like that." 

"Homework, first, though." 

"Homework, first," Percy agreed, and he stood to dress.

Nico smiled at him, and Percy couldn't help but look at him for a while longer. 


	14. In the Grave

As Percy faced his father's resting place, he felt empty. 

There was no particular marking stone to denote that someone was buried there, but a tall, dead tree with mangled branches stood in its place. The tree had rough, ashen bark, denuded of all its leaves and any signs of life.

He kneeled beside the grave, as if it would allow him to feel closer to his father—the absent father that he never knew. He didn't remember what he looked like, or the sound of his voice, but he was his father, nonetheless, and he was dead. 

He never thought his dad to be a person, only a shadow that existed in his mind with a fantastical aura surrounding it, giving him the feeling he never truly existed. He was a faceless entity, a blur in his earliest memories, but he was present in his fantasies when he thought of what could have been if he was in his life. He never remembered knowing him, but as he looked upon his grave, he felt a connection to him. 

His mind was filled with questions that he would never be able to receive answers to. Why did he remove all his memories of Nico, of Bloomsbury, of the Darkness? Was it to keep him safe, or away from the lifestyle? Did he ever genuinely care about him? 

Percy couldn't afford to be saddened by his father's death. If anything, he was angry. Why did the town murder his dad, who had a wife and a child, and, as far as he knew, didn't do anything to deserve it?

He turned to Nico, who was silently standing behind him, allowing him to have a moment and accept reality. 

"Do you remember him?" Percy asked.

Nico held a thoughtful look on his countenance before responding. "A little. He was loud, but always nice." 

Percy smiled to himself, but kept quiet.

The two were surrounded by the rustling of grass and pine needles, along with the occasional birdsong. It remained silent, peaceful, until a question prodded Percy's mind. 

"How did he die?"

Nico was surprised by the sudden question and tried to think of an appropriate way to answer it. "The gallows, I think." 

"Why didn't he resist?"

"It would be of no use. He was trying to protect you. The Darkness had its sights on him and it wouldn't relent until he was dead." 

"You make the Darkness sound sentient."

He shrugged. "I'm not sure what it is, exactly. I'm not sure if it's a dangerous magical force, or just a name given to our fear of the unknown. I'm told it's a curse, nothing more. I'm just annoyed that Dad tries to keep it from me." 

"Me too. If I am supposed to repel it, or to help find a way to banish it completely, I want to understand it."

"I think Dad is afraid that if we understand it, we think it necessary, or begin to think like it." 

"Weird," Percy said. 

The wind blew a pile of dead, brown leaves onto the grave, and Percy felt further from his faceless father than he had when his mom had to accompany him to Father-Son events. When he watched all those children in the park playing with their dads. When the class made crafts for Father's Day, and he was left with no father to give one to. 

He shook his head and brought himself from his knees, the foliage scratching through his jeans as he adjusted. 

It was time to say goodbye. To make peace that he would never know the kind of man his father was, and he would only live in the fantasies he created in his absence. 

The pads of Percy's fingers felt at the moist dirt covering the grave, and a jolt surged through his body, his consciousness swiftly whisked away by darkness. His body fell limply to the ground beneath him, sending the leaves into disarray. 

"Percy!" Nico exclaimed, shocked, and quickly he rushed to Percy's side. 

It was so sudden, but he smelled magic in the air. It didn't smell like any magic he knew, but it was there, undeniably. 

Nico called his name and shook his body to awaken him, but Percy remained dead to the world. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊  


Percy's vision faded to farmland and rolling hills of lush, green grass. The air smelled of manure and earth. A thin layer of dirt coated his palms. His hands looked rougher, more rugged than usual—swarthy and calloused from toiling in the hot sun. He held a splintering, wooden handle of a hoe in his hands.

The sun was blistering hot as it shone upon him in heavy rays. It beat upon his heated shoulders, weighing him down. He felt the heaviness of working for hours on end, his back and shoulders sore and his healing blisters on his hands throbbing. Sweat dripped from his brow as he continued his work. 

From where he toiled, he could see that he was miles from any sign of civilization, without any cars or people in sight. Mere landscape—meadows, trees, hills—continued incessantly. 

He heard the clomping of hooves on the ground and the clatter of wooden wagon wheels rolling over rocks in their path. Percy looked up to see a carriage traveling along the sole dirt road that cut through the fields, leaving light clouds of disturbed dust in its wake. The coachman pulled the carriage to an abrupt stop, halting the horses with the reins he held tightly in his gloved hands. A young woman, a brunette maiden, flowers strewn in her long, flowing hair, climbed down from her carriage, her delicate hand placed in a man's gloved one. He was dressed to the nines, his apparel elaborate and silken. An elegant cape was draped over his shoulders, wrinkling and flowing with his movements. He wore a ruffled, lace tie strung from his neck, his long hair tied back in a ribbon. The woman, cautious of the excessive fabric of her dress, carefully placed her boots on the ground and allowed the man to escort her to a small cottage on the hill across from the farmland. Percy assumed them to be the owners of the land he was cultivating. 

The horses huffed and sputtered as the coachman snapped the reins and drove them off to the stables. 

Percy wiped the sweat from his forehead as he watched them perambulate past, the dry, dirt path coughing up a cloud of dust behind them, and caught a glimpse of another man, leaning against a tree in the outskirts of the wood. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he held a smug expression as he stared at Percy. He seemed vaguely familiar from a distance, but Percy had never seen anyone like him in his life. He looked lower-middle class by his apparel: a dirtied cream-colored tunic that laced at the neckline and a pair of rough, homespun, brown pants. His long hair was loosely tied back with leather to keep the dark strands from his eyes. 

Percy stopped his efforts and rested the hoe against a fencepost. The man beckoned to him, and he felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. He obeyed without question or hesitation. 

As he neared, a powerful feeling grew in his stomach that took Percy by surprise. He couldn't quite identify the feeling, either, but it wasn't negative. It wasn't dread or fear. 

Percy followed the man into the trees, the light breeze and cool shade relieving him of the ungodly heat of the sun. Once he figured they went far enough, the man stopped and turned to face him. 

Percy bowed in the stranger's presence to greet him. "A good day to you, sir," he greeted playfully, but the voice wasn't his own. It was deeper, kind, and held hints of a suggestive tone. 

The other man smiled at his gesture, and he approached him. Percy suddenly recognized him; he was Nico's dad, except he was younger—he couldn't have been older than nineteen. He had longer hair, there were mere whiskers on his chin, and he was smiling wickedly, but his resemblance to Nico was uncanny. Percy was convinced for a moment that Nico's eyes stared into his, stirring up the feeling in his stomach. But they were Hades', looking at him with love and molten passion—a foreign look from Nico's father. 

Hades pressed his lips passionately to his, but Percy couldn't do anything but endure. He couldn't squirm or object. The deep burn in his stomach swelled as he felt the warmth of Hades' mouth and his slight stubble scratching his skin. His arms—but they weren't his own—pulled Hades closer, gripping his tunic tightly as the kiss deepened. 

Hades moaned quietly and pulled away, if only briefly. "We need to finish quickly, or they'll notice my absence," he said, breathily. 

Percy had no control of his actions, or his words. It was like he was watching someone else's life through their eyes. He brought Hades' back against a tree, his hands gripping his hips and kissing him furiously, as if this meeting would be their last. But Percy couldn't feel uncomfortable in the slightest. Hades moaned in their kiss, his hands finding their way to Percy's—or whoever he was—hair and unraveling the raven waves with his fingers. 

This memory, was it his father's? he couldn't help but think as he brought his hands to the laces of Hades' tunic and began to unravel them. He had managed to loosen them before he found his lips on Hades' neck, nibbling and pressing searing kisses as Hades fisted his hair, his pants accentuated with light, pleading moans. Hades ground his hips against his desperately. 

"Donnie, I beg of you," he implored in a breathy tone, pulling him closer. 

"Shh." Poseidon pressed a teasing finger gently to his lips. "They'll hear you." 

Hades squirmed slightly. His brown eyes bore into Percy's, liquid from lust. 

"I pray," he whispered, his voice desperate and rugged, torn apart with lust. 

Percy almost thought it to be Nico who looked at him that way, pleading him for more, and a spark of begrudging excitement erupted in his stomach. He quickly chased it away. 

A smile tugged on the corners of Poseidon's lips before he indulged Hades in another kiss.

Fortunately, before the memory could continue on any further, it disappeared in a swirl of mist. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Percy stood before a group of people he'd never seen before. They loomed over him, arranged in a semi-circle. Their faces were obscured by darkness. He tensed, unsure if they were friend or foe, but the feeling in his stomach was one of gut-wrenching fear. Heavy shackles weighed down his wrists. However, he made no sign to denote that he was afraid. 

He was certain he had seen these figures before, but the feeling wasn't the familiarity he felt with Nico, or with Willow Lane. It felt like a vision bestowed upon him by a lack of sleep. Or a nightmare.

"Poseidon Jackson," a man's voice boomed through the darkness, echoing in Percy's ear. "You have been charged before the court for witchcraft. How do you plead?"

"Where's my lawyer?" 

The man laughed maliciously. "This is a crime for which your rights have been waived. How do you plead?"

"I don't. Not without a lawyer." 

Abruptly, a heavy set of doors burst open, the sound resounding throughout the walls, and Percy could see the highlights of Hades' face as he entered the small, dark room. He was now older, about as old as he looked when Percy saw him, but his eyes were the same. His countenance held worry and grief, as if death was looming over him. Seeing the current situation, it probably was. 

"Donnie!" he exclaimed. His voice was deeper than it was in the last vision. It was more urgent, less playful.

Even at the welcoming sight of him, the dread remained. "Hades, what are—" 

He leaned close to Percy's face, whispering into his ear, "Sally and Percy are safe. Don't worry. They are on their way to New York as we speak." 

Relief filled Percy's gut, despite the unfamiliarity of Hades speaking his name with such a compassionate, tender tone of voice. "What of Maria?" he whispered back. "And of Thanatos, Bianca, and Nico?" 

His face grew ashen and grim. "The children are safe. Maria is in custody."

Percy was angered, yet saddened by his words. 

"Do you realize that you are interrupting a criminal trial, Mr. di Angelo?" asked the head judge. 

Percy pleaded with his eyes, begging him not to leave him, but, simultaneously, he wanted Hades to be safe from the harm that was to befall him. Hades gave him an apologetic look before rushing from the court room. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It was a nice, sunny day outside. It seemed blindingly bright, as if he hadn't seen light in days. He smelled rancid with body odor. He wondered where he'd been until he noticed the gallows in the distance. He was imprisoned, and today was his execution. 

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel the warmth of the sun as it shone on his skin. His rough, calloused hands were bound at the wrists by old, weathered rope that scratched and bit his skin unpleasantly. The man behind him prodded him urgently. He looked to the trees that surrounded him. He could feel the rope around his neck already, in a sort of an unpleasant anticipation. He was afraid, but he was also relieved. His son and his wife were safe. His son wouldn't remember this place. He would be protected from all that magic entailed. 

He stepped onto the platform. He spotted Hades in the crowd, his face hidden by a hood. He came to see him, for the last time. A beautiful, dark-haired lady stepped up beside him. He cast her a wistful smile. She was strong; she knew not to cry. When asked for his final words, he recited the Lord's Prayer from memory. It was a spiteful gesture, and he could feel the outrage radiating from the crowd. 

In his last moments, he was happy. The hood soon covered his head, and he took a final glimpse at the sunlight, knowing he was never to see it again. The rope was tightened around his neck, and time seemed to stand still. He could hardly stand the anticipation gnawing at his stomach until he felt the ground disappear beneath his feet. 

  
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Nico ran to Percy's unconscious body, sprawled over Poseidon's grave. Kronos followed quickly behind him. 

"Oh my God, he's suffocating!" Nico cried upon discovery of his panicked movements. "What's happening?" 

"I can smell magic. It was probably Poseidon's memories. It's not uncommon for magic to seep out into the grave dirt. Maybe it was just for Percy to see. Last act of magic." 

"How do we stop it? He's going to die!"

"Move him from the dirt," Kronos ordered. "Then, give him a kiss." 

Nico glared at the man, a light blush tingeing his cheeks. "You can't be serious!" 

"No, it was a joke. Just get him off the dirt, already." 

Nico managed to catch one of Percy's flailing arms and he pulled Percy's struggling body from the grave. He shot up, grasping his throat and panting frantically. 

Nico kneeled over him. "Percy, it's all right. It was a vision. You're okay now."

It took several minutes for Percy to recuperate from the experience, but it seemed that Nico's calming words helped immensely. 

Nico felt relieved, and he threw his arms around him. 

"What happened?" Nico asked into his shoulder. 

"I..." Percy began, his voice slightly raspy. "I just saw my dad's memories." 

"Last act of magic," Kronos repeated. "The grave dirt seals it." 

"Nico," Percy said. 

"What?" 

"I think... I think our dads were lovers." 


End file.
